


Dead as a doornail [JASON TODD X READER]

by cry_of_the_sparrow



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 12:22:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19109587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cry_of_the_sparrow/pseuds/cry_of_the_sparrow
Summary: You were simply lonely and miserable, and tired of living, which was something you no longer had to worry about. Except the fact you felt like you were going insane since you couldn’t speak to anyone properly, until you met Jason.





	Dead as a doornail [JASON TODD X READER]

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So first things first, I wanna apologize for any grammar or spelling mistakes, and I know (to me at least?) the summary is a little vague, but it’s supposed to be that. And I hope whoever you are, you enjoy reading.

Life never really was your thing, you'd sucked at doing it and handling all of the shit it dumped on you. Even now you were shy and a complete and utter nervous wreck when it came to communicating with others, not that you could anyways. 

You never even really liked living anyways, it was a pain and it still didn't feel any nicer now that you've gotten away from it. 'Cause now you could only see and watch all these other people going around and flaunting it around like some sort of noble prize, and telling yourself you could've gone somewhere with your own little noble prize hung around your neck.

Instead though, you sat on an empty roof top on a particularly cold night. Not a single cloud to be spotted for once and you were actually able to see the deep abyss above with all of its speckled white glory. The wind wasn't too bad, but bad enough to give anyone a chill who wasn't wearing a jacket. With or without a Jacket though, you simply sat, soaking in the moons rays as silence and misery consumed you.

Your ears perked though when the wind had carried over the multiple sounds of gunshots. Now nervous and afraid that someone could be hurt, or most likely, dead, you'd rushed off into the night. The wind guiding you to your destination to where the gunshots had originated from, and arriving at an old warehouse. 

The place was as almost as dead as you, the place reeking of death as you'd gotten closer. You'd grimaced at the smell, almost acting as if you had never smelt it before. 

With the slightest of hesitation you went through one of the closed doors around the corner, just for precautionary reasons of course, you didn't necessarily want to get shot. That would be incredibly annoying, useless, and a waste of your time. 

Of course though, the door had creaked loudly as you passed, echoing out and reaching the other presence that happened to be there. 'Causing their reaction to whip around and pulling the trigger of one of his forty-five firearms, bullet piercing through the air as you could only stand there with wide eyes. 

Silver glinting in the moons light as the bullet had zoomed towards and right through your ghostly body. Your eyes still wide as you stared at the man wearing a red bucket on his head. 

A couple of seconds passed of silence, the man, who you recognized as Red Hood, had kept his arm that held the gun up and straight and pointed at you. You were still surprised and questioning yourself, like what kind of moron shoots a gun at a ghost without the proper necessities?

That thought was right after Red had dumbly decided to fire a couple more times at your slightly hovering, awkward, sad little self. 

You'd released a high-pitched squeak of terror as you attempted to dodge each of the bullets. It wasn't that it hurt when you'd be struck by them, it's just that it felt weird and just not natural at all, and you didn't like it. In fact, you hated that feeling.

Luckily for you, years of being shot at had come with a very good price, you'd only been hit once from the shiny bullets as they whizzed passed, letting out high-pitched squeaks as you dodged all except one. That one sent a shiver done your non-existent spine as it went through your chest. 

After that was all done and over with, you'd looked back over to Red Hood with your arms tucked in close to your chest. A furious look on your face as you glared at him. 

"What. The. Hell," you hissed quietly. "You shot me!" 

He scoffed, lowering his gun, surprisingly calm about the whole situation. "And you're dead," he shot back, "like dead as a door nail dead, so what does it matter?" 

"I- that's-" you sighed, he wasn't wrong. 

You rolled your eyes though to the back of your head while wishing you could desperately rip your hair out. Instead you let out a frustrated noise, flipping him off and ignoring the dead bodies as you lingered there for a few more seconds.

Once realizing your presence was both pointless and useless, as usual, you'd left without uttering a single word. Completely ignoring the dead body smell, and the fact he probably killed a bunch of people. Beides, they most likely deserved it. 

He'd only watched you leave, simply going through one of the exits while he silently flipped you back off behind your back. Grumbling under his breath about 'pesky crooks' and 'ruining my night off with your bullshit.' 

Honestly, he was happy he didn't have Dick, or even Bruce, on his case for 'murdering' a bunch of Two-Face's thugs. He never really liked to call it murder, more like cleaning up the mess Bruce and the rest left behind.

And all of his years of doing that, you were defiantly on the top ten weirdest encounters. 

‿︵‿︵(ಥ﹏ಥ)‿︵‿︵

It's been a couple of days since the...interesting encounter with Red Hood. It was the first you'd actually seen an anti-hero so close before as well, except for all those years ago. 

Now, you were back to square one of loneliness and misery. Of sitting in the rain and missing the feeling of the cool droplets on your once warm skin, the breeze of wind rushing passed you on a warm summers night. You missed all of it, except for the people part, but still.

Now life, or death, is just as bad as it was when you were actually breathing. Miserable, boring, and lonely- wait.

You stopped, everything around you becoming a soundless buzz as a background noise in your mind. 

The sudden realization of the events happening a couple days in the past hitting you right smack in the face. Your whole body had gone rigid, non-existent heart supposedly thumping quickly in your chest.

"He saw me." You gripped your hair in your hands, mouth agape as you spoke quickly and quietly. "Holy hell, he saw me, he spoke to me," you breathed out frantically. 

"I, I can-" you shot up from your sitting position- "I gotta find him, and just, friend, I need one," you finished quickly, stumbling over and off the roof to search for hopefully a new friend, or someone to talk to so you wouldn't go insane. 

'Cause going insane didn't sound too fun, and you'd never actually had a friend before. At least not one that, lied, verbally abused, or spoke harshly when your back was turned on them. 

You still considered yourself to have been rather lonely when you were alive, and now that you were dead it really wasn't any better. 

‿︵‿︵(ಥ﹏ಥ)‿︵‿︵

He slammed the window back shut after he clumsily stumbled through it and into his apartment. He kept on cursing beneath his breath as he stormed further into the apartment, carelessly placing his helmet atop the first thing he'd passed by. 

"I fucking hate people," he grumbled while slamming open his bedroom door and throwing himself on top of it. He sighed contently, now all he needed was a book and for people to leave him alone so he could finally relax. 

Draping an arm over his face and closing his eyes, all Jason had to do now was to decide whether to reread one of his favorites or look for something new. He could do either or, but reading the-

"-hi!" 

Nearly shrieking, Jason had jumped up from his position and stumbled off it in the process. He snapped his head up to see that same ghostly figure with your head tilted, half your body through the hall. 

He placed a hand over his heart in an attempt to calm his rapidly beating organ, taking a breath in. "Jesus, fuck," he muttered. 

"Sorry," you smiled sheepishly, shoving yourself the rest of the way through the wall and then cheerfully settling yourself atop his bed. 

He furrowed his brows at your action, cautiously standing up as he silently observed you. This was all new to him, he’d never actually had a spirit follow him home, or anything, before.

"Okay-" he raised his hands up in the air, making sure you were listening- "first of all why are you here?" He asked first, one of the questions he was more curious about. After seeing you were no threat, he’d cautiously settled himself across from you, and once again, eerily calm about the whole thing.

"I'm lonely and need friends." You shrugged. Your answer simple, and quick, probably a little too quick. 

"What, you don't have friends in the afterlife?" Jason had lightly snapped. He was very close to losing his temper 'cause he'd had it with all the supernatural shit for the week. 

You began fiddling with your thumbs as you shook your head no. "There's no one here, just me." You'd looked up at his cerulean eyes with sadness, your voice sounding much more depressed than before as you spoke, "you're the first person I've talked to you in years." 

A pang of guilt had struck Jason, he frowned as he actually began to take in your ghostly features. [H/C] hair that seemed a little rough and messy, and a set of happy glowing [E/C] eyes that concealed the sadness you'd feel on a daily basis.

Okay, so he was at least able to admit it to himself that he felt bad. He was an anti-hero after all, not some heartless bastard who would've popped out the holy water by your presence. 

He'd be happier though if you'd at least popped up at his apartment next week, or so he thinks. Honestly he might've actually been more pissed off you had. 

"So?" You interrupted his thoughts, his eyes snapping back towards you as he focused again. "Are we gonna order pizza or something?" You cringed at your own words, painfully awaiting Jason's reaction to tell you to get out of his life. 

He sighed tiredly, "we're gonna have to work on your social skills." That being said, he reached for his phone and began his search for any decent pizzeria restaurants that delivered. Once believing he'd found one, he dialed the number and walked out his bedroom towards the living room again. 

You perked up from your spot, brows furrowing, as you scrambled after him with confusion across your face. "Wait!" You called after him. "Does this mean we're friends?"


End file.
